


Indulgences

by daasgrrl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Or not, Other, Slash, just go with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daasgrrl/pseuds/daasgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Mycroft give in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgences

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: [](http://evila-elf.livejournal.com/profile)[**evila_elf**](http://evila-elf.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Written due to exasperation with [](http://teflon_woman.livejournal.com/profile)[**teflon_woman**](http://teflon_woman.livejournal.com/) 's fixation on John's relationships and continuing inability to correctly appreciate Mycroft. Obviously, I mean that in the _nice_ way. Also possibly a blatant excuse for my personal kinks. There, _can we all be happy now_? ;P

  
  
“Are you sure about this?” John’s eyes had never looked so dark, the bare expanse of his skin so vulnerable.

  
“Oh, yes,” Mycroft said softly, his hands clasped, studying the vision before him. At this moment, it felt as though he had never wanted anything more in his life.

  
“Because we don’t have to…I mean, we could just, I don’t know, talk about it more first. Maybe even with some clothes on?”

  
Mycroft had thought of little else all day, and after his initial outburst he would waste no more time talking. All he wanted now was to possess, consumed with the need to touch and taste what he felt was his by right. He swallowed, hard, and his tongue flicked out, moistening his dry lips.

  
Despite not looking at all convinced, John tilted his head up obediently at the guiding hand under his chin, his eyes wide open. The kiss that followed seemed to reassure him, if only a little.

  
At this point, it took all of Mycroft’s self-control to remain calm and patient. It would have been so much easier for him to just take what he wanted in the basest manner, without all this fuss and preparation, but he prided himself on doing things properly. He would just have to endure the steady build of anticipation in the pit of his stomach.

  
“Okay,” John said at last. “If you're really...okay.” His voice might have sounded shaky and uncertain, but his cock now clearly had its own views on the matter. He made no protest as he was pushed gently but decisively onto the bed.

  
Giving himself permission to proceed, Mycroft reached forward then, his fingers closing on the smooth shaft in a gentle caress as he paused to appreciate its weight and solidity. His hand dipped down and came back up again, just once. Leaning in slowly, feeling almost dizzy with need, he forced himself to wait for one more moment and fully appreciate what he was about to do, wanting to commit it to memory. He took a long breath in as though inhaling some exotic scent, resisting the urge to push it into his mouth all at once, without any finesse at all. Instead, he merely flicked out with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tasting.

  
“God,” John said, his breath catching in his throat. He was propped up on his elbows now, seemingly mesmerised by the sight unfolding before him. “Oh. Please, god, just…please.”  
  
  
And then Mycroft did take it in, his mouth enveloping its reward with voluptuous pleasure. Shamelessly, he swirled his tongue around, taking care not to inadvertently sink his teeth into the unyielding hardness beneath, and went on to repeat his actions again and again, lost in sensation. He was dimly aware that he was now making the most undignified noises, but could not bring himself to care.

  
John moaned, his eyes closing. His hips bucked up uncontrollably as he surrendered to the relentless stimulation.

  
Somewhere along the way, Mycroft lost track of time, pleasure cresting in successive waves until he could barely stand it. Several times he had to pull away completely and force himself to breathe, to collect himself for a fresh assault. Finally, it was all too much even for him, and he groaned as he reached completion.

  
“Sherlock,” John gasped, as he came. After a long, breathless moment, he pulled Sherlock down to lie beside him on the bed, holding him close despite some feeble protestations.

  
Feeling gloriously sticky and satiated, Mycroft sighed deeply, and licked the very last bit of creamy icing from the antique silver fork before pushing his plate away. It had been far too long since his last illicit dalliance, but Anthea's procurement had been impeccable as always, and in the end it had been worth every second of anticipation. Mycroft smiled, his thoughts warm and expansive in the afterglow. Having noticed the simmering tensions at Baker Street a little earlier that day, he could only spare the sincere hope that Sherlock and John had enjoyed their own evening anywhere _near_ as much.


End file.
